


The Porno Flick Affair

by YumYumPM



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1943157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumYumPM/pseuds/YumYumPM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lighthearted look at an almost improbable affair.<br/>Originally written 2004</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Porno Flick Affair

The two agents were sitting in Napoleon’s office. Napoleon was leaning back in his chair throwing darts at a picture of the playmate of the month, trying to hit strategic areas. Illya was reclining on the sofa perusing a technical journal.

“Bulls eye,” Napoleon muttered.

Illya looked up at the picture hanging over his head, grateful that his partner had not missed the target and hit him. He closed his journal and sat up. “Napoleon, do you ever get tired of people thinking we’re having an affair.”

“Nope, do you?” he asked closing one eye to take aim.

“Sometimes,” Illya answered reluctantly.

“It was your idea,” Napoleon brought up.

Illya glared at him.

“Okay, so it wasn’t your idea. But it did work; you don’t have all those women trying to get into your pants, do you?” Napoleon tried to be reasonable.

Sighing Illya complained, “There are still some who wish to teach me the error of my ways.”

“How come nobody wants to teach me the error of my ways?” Napoleon asked indignantly. 

“Napoleon, you have no errors of the ways,” Illya said with a smile.

“Hmmph, we could actually have an affair,” Napoleon offered before going back to his target practice. “I could ravish you on one of the tables in the commissary.”

Illya burst out laughing. “I don’t think it would help.”

Napoleon shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t offer. Maybe we should do a porno film…and pass it around.”

“Napoleon, I doubt if you’d even know what to do for a porno film,” Illya said, shocked.

Whatever Napoleon was planning to say will never be known, in view of the fact that Mr. Waverly sent word for them to meet in his office.

After his two top agents entered and sat down Mr. Waverly got right to business. “Gentlemen, it appears that THRUSH has found a new cover recently. They have bought out a pornographic film company.”

The two men looked at each other in surprise, Illya with suspicion and Napoleon with amusement.

“We’ve managed to get you both jobs as actors in their latest film,” Mr. Waverly continued.

Napoleon cleared his throat. “Ah, why us, sir?”

“Really, Mr. Solo,” was all he said as he dismissed them.

Once they were out of earshot of anyone Illya muttered, “Another one of your bright ideas?”

“I didn’t know a thing about it. Boy Scouts honor,” he protested holding up three fingers in the Boy Scout salute.

Illya just shook his head and walked away. Napoleon called after him, just a tad worried, “Shouldn’t we practice?”

Once they arrived at the porno studio, they handed their forged resumes to the director. “Have you ever done anything like this before?” he asked.

The two men dared not look at each other, as Illya answered, “Our resumes speak for themselves.”

He looked over the impressive resumes and looked up at the agents. Then he called over to another man across the way. “Harry, I think we may have to rename this flick to something like “The Russian Invasion” or something similar.

Harry turned his attention to the two men. “Ahuh, I’ll get right on it.” His eyes lingering on Illya much to Napoleon’s disapproval.

The director, Stan Brubeck, called over the prop girl. “Show these guys around, then take them to their dressing room.” Getting the new script from Harry and handing it to his new stars. “Go over this. Shooting starts in one hour.”

The prop girl, who was slightly overweight with thick glasses and lank hair, motioned for the two agents to follow her. She kept throwing sly glances at Napoleon as she showed them the sound stage, which consisted of a huge bed and not much else, before leading them to a small dressing room and handing each of them a bathrobe. “These are your costumes,” she said shyly.

Napoleon looked at the bathrobe in his hand. “Must be a low budget flick.”

Illya snickered as he thumbed through the script. Handing the script over to his partner, he proceeding to undress and get into his ‘costume’ such as it was. He watched Napoleon’s reaction out of the corner of his eye.

Napoleon had already changed and sat down to take in the script directions. His face froze on the first page, his eyes widen on the second page; by the end of the script his mouth was dry and his face pale. “Did you read this?” he asked, waving the script in front of Illya’s face.

Illya nodded, his tongue in cheek, trying to keep from laughing.

Napoleon glared at him. “If I remember rightly it was Napoleon who invaded Russia not the other way around.”

“Napoleon, it does not matter who ‘invades’ whom. We are simply here to provide a distraction so the other team can get the information needed to shut this operation down,” Illya stated matter-of-factly.

“How much of a distraction?” Napoleon asked, as he drew nearer to his partner.

“Whatever it takes, Napoleon, whatever it takes,” Illya responded with an evil glint in his blue eyes.

They were called to the stage and preceded to remove the bathrobes as the director yelled, “Action.”

Napoleon took the lead and gently pushed Illya down on the bed. Using his hand to lightly caress the face under him, he lowered his lips for a slow and tantalizing kiss. It felt so good that both men started to get aroused. 

Illya looked up at his partner. “Napoleon, do you know what you’re doing?”

“Sure, I’ve got a dick and I know where to put it.” Napoleon wiggled his eyebrows.

“Cut, Cut.”

Napoleon pulled away and looked down at his partner then half turned to look questioning at the director.

“This scene calls for the little guy to be on top,” Stan directed.

“You heard the man; the little guy should be on top,” Illya said with a smirk as he neatly flipped his partner over.

Napoleon glanced down between the Russian legs. “You’re not so little now.”

Illya returned the favor. “Neither are you it seems. Don’t worry, Napoleon, I’ve got a dick and I too know where to put it.”

“Prop girl. Prop girl,” Stan yelled.

“That’s prop person,” the girl said.

“Where’s the lube? He’s gonna need the lube,” Stan ordered.

As the girl brought over the lube, Illya let his head drop to Napoleon’s shoulder to keep from laughing.

“Action!” Stan shouted again.

Illya proceeded to take unfair advantage of his partner. Finding the lube he started to prepare him with a wicked look on his face. Lowering his mouth to Napoleon’s ear he whispered, “Are you ready, Napoleon.”

Napoleon who looked like he was on his way to a funeral closed his eyes and nodded.

“Cut…Cut,” the director yelled again.

“What now?” Illya wanted to know.

“He’s supposed to be on his knees. Didn’t you read the script?” the director demanded.

Illya turned around and patiently explained, “Surely it would be better this way, the camera can catch his face as I enter him.”

“Thanks for the suggestion,” Napoleon said as he lay there.

“Good point. Let’s use it,” the director agreed. “Action.”

Illya took it slow and easy playing up to the camera arranging Napoleon for the best penetration and finally was ready to enter - when.

“Cut…Cut.”

He froze wondering ‘what now?’

“Let’s get a close up of that,” the director yelled at the cameraman. “Action. Slowly now…slowly.”

Illya could take direction very well when he wanted to so he slowly entered the body of his friend and partner. 

Napoleon’s face started to show signs of pain as he muttered, “Stop…stop.” His body heaving. Illya froze and looked down at him. “Napoleon, you have to relax.”

“Relax, he says,” Napoleon groaned. “How well could you relax with a broomstick up your ass?”

“That’s it…show pain. Are you getting that?” Stan asked the cameraman.

Illya on the other hand started working hard to get Napoleon to relax more and did such a good job that he was soon able to thrust without causing too much pain. The groans had changed to moans of ecstasy and both men were losing track of the reason that they were there.

“Pain…more pain,” the director shouted again.

Illya took him at his word and bit down hard on Napoleon’s shoulder as he came, causing Napoleon’s face to grimace once more in pain.

“Cut….Cut. That’s a wrap. Great job, guys,” Stan called.

It was some time before either man was able to move. The prop person came over handing them their robes. “You guys were great,” she said drooling. “and you in particular,” she continued looking at Napoleon. “are so well hung.”

Illya threw Napoleon’s robe at him covering him up a bit as Napoleon, looking doubtful, said, “Thank you…I think.”

“Come on, Napoleon,” Illya said as he walked off toward their dressing room tying the belt on his robe.

They were almost finished dressing when Napoleon's communicator sounded. “Solo here.”

“Mission accomplished, Boss.” Came over the pen.

“Good work,” Napoleon replied as he looked at Illya and they both let out a sigh of relief.

Much, much later that night in Napoleon’s apartment, he sat on the sofa with his feet propped on the coffee table, and drink in hand. In his lap a relaxed Russian reclined as they watched the one and only copy of the film of their performance that they had confiscated.

“You do pain very well,” Illya commented.

Napoleon grunted. “Next time Napoleon will invade Russia.” This brought a chuckle from his friend and after rubbing his shoulder he had to ask, “did you have to bite me so hard?”

Looking up at the frowning face of his partner Illya said confidently, “Of course, I had to mark you so everyone would know you are mine.”

Napoleon looked into the laughing eyes before leaning over to collect a vodka-laced kiss.

The End.


End file.
